School
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: Behind the bike sheds...
1. Chapter 1

"Ooh!"

Christian's magazine slipped to the floor and he woke with a start. The rhythmic tapping of Syed's fingers on the keyboard, the slow ticking of the clock by his head, the distant hum of the traffic in the high street, had all combined into a soothing lullaby, causing him to doze off. He had been lying on the bed, pretending he was reading, but secretly taking the opportunity to watch Syed as he sat at the dining table. His face had looked angelic, concentrating intently on the computer screen, tongue between his teeth, occasionally humming a tune under his breath.

Christian grunted "Eh?" and retrieved the crumpled magazine from the floor, trying to make out he had been awake all along.

Syed smiled across at him.

"Did you fall asleep?" He asked fondly.

Christian gave a little grimace.

"Just a little bit.."

He yawned loudly and sat up, leaning back against the headboard.

"What are you 'oohing' at? You're not on that dirty website again are you?"

Syed laughed.

"The one that only exists in your filthy mind? No, I've just got an email about a reunion at my old school."

Christian pushed himself off the bed and crossed to stand behind him.

"Are you going?" He rested his chin on the top of Syed's head.

Syed didn't respond immediately, pausing while he contemplated the idea.

"Hmm, dunno. Not the happiest of times for me."

"Really? I wasn't mad keen either."

Syed randomly scrolled up and down the screen.

"I know. You should have been the most popular boy in class."

"I hope I am now. What was wrong? You weren't bullied were you? Tell me who by and I'll give them a piece of my mind.."

Syed closed the laptop slowly.

"No, no. I was well liked. At least, they liked the person I was pretending to be. I shan't go.."

Christian slipped his arms around Syed's waist and gave him a squeeze.

"Why not? My one was a laugh. You can feel smug at how fat and bald your peers have become, it's Karma. I'll come with you if you like."

Syed shook his head slightly and tipped it back, so that he could meet Christian's eyes.

"You'd be bored. And you know how mischievous you get when you're bored. By the time you finish you'll have us living on our own island in the Pacific as porn barons, or in Houston as astronauts."

Christian stuck his lower lip out petulantly and went into the kitchen, calling behind him;

"Spoilsport. I went with Ronnie to hers, as moral support. We wowed them with a rather splendid dance routine. We could do Dirty Dancing, I'll lift you up in the air and your school friends can throw buckets of water at us."

Syed shuddered.

"As long as that's all they throw. I'm not doing any dancing, it's shameful. I haven't danced since my Mehn.."

He realised that Christian's clattering with the tea things had paused momentarily.

"..di.." He finished quietly.

Christian stood in the doorway, the sadness of bad memories palpable in the air.

"Yeah, I missed that.."

Syed jumped up and pulled Christian into a fierce embrace.

"You missed nothing, and I'm here now. Mind you, my back flip was a triumph."

"You'll have to show me. We'll move the furniture out of the way.."

"Oh believe me Mr. Clarke, I've got lots of moves I can show you.."

Christian's face brightened and he chuckled.

"Are you going to it then? When is it?"

"Next Saturday, and I suppose so, more out of extreme curiosity than anything else. Will you meet me afterwards?"

Christian twisted his fingers into Syed's hair.

"Of course I will. You can take me round your childhood haunts, sneak me round the back of the bike sheds."

"Not somewhere I frequented much. Though I would have, if you'd been at my school."

Syed slipped his hands under Christian's T shirt and sighed happily, luxuriating in the feel of his warm skin, the shift of taut muscles.

"How about I show you some of those moves now?"


	2. Chapter 2

Syed lurked by the doors of the school hall, nursing his plastic cup of watered down orange juice. There was also free wine available, and it had begun to cause the volume, amongst some of the groups, to increase. The sound of over excited chatter echoed against the wood panelled walls.

He looked nervously about, trying to place names to faces. No one had changed a great deal, they were all still young. Maybe a slight crinkling of lines around their eyes, faces beginning to fill out. A sense that life had stealthily started to wear them all down. The exciting experience of University, new marriages, babies, receding, as work life and reality crept in.

He smiled when he spotted Hakim, his friend from the music club, weaving his way through the throng towards him.

It dawned on Syed that he had been a member of a lot of clubs, his mother had actively encouraged it, every evening seemed to have been filled with some activity, in between all the after school meetings, Mosque, family gatherings, he marvelled that he'd ever found time to think.

'Which was probably for the best…' He mused.

"Hakim! How are you?"

Syed shook his friend's hand warmly.

"No bad matey. This is mental isn't it? What are you up to now? Did you travel down from Leeds?"

"I'm living in Walford now, over in the East End. The family moved there."

He felt heat rising up the skin of his throat, scared of what he could say when asked about his parents, uneasy about revealing he had been disowned. He deftly turned the questioning to Hakim.

"What have you been doing since we left?"

Hakim puffed his chest out proudly.

"Got a first, got my own accountancy firm, got married.."

He hesitated slightly, suddenly recalling Syed's popularity amongst the girls, and, in particular, his new bride.

"..to Yasmina. You remember her?"

"Of course, beautiful Yasmina. Well done you! Is she here?"

Syed glanced around the room, looking for her pretty flower face. His mother had been very keen on his friendship with her, mostly due to the fact that her father owned his own chain of hotels. He could hear Zainab's voice nagging inside his head;

"Why don't you bring Yasmina round for tea? Why don't you take Yasmina to the cinema? Why don't you ask Yasmina to that school prom disco party?"

And Yasmina would have been happy to do all of these things, Syed knew, from the way she had looked at him with soft, hopeful eyes. The light in them dimming, hopes crushed, as he had fobbed her off time and time again.

He saw her approach and grinned delightedly, kissing her on both cheeks before Hakim possessively pulled her to his side.

She looked him up and down.

"Still skinny then, Syed. And handsome as ever."

Syed tried to ignore Hakim's cross expression.

"And you're still beautiful.." He pointed to her growing stomach. "And congratulations seem to be in order!"

He slapped Hakim on the back.

"Lucky for you it is a baby, not too much good food." She chided him.

"When's it due? What are you hoping for, boy or girl?"

Hakim put a protective arm around his wife's shoulders.

"We don't mind, as long as it is healthy, that's all we want."

Yasmina smiled into her husband's face, and Syed felt a warm glow of relief at the love he saw pass between them.

From the corner of his eye he could see a tall, willowy blonde woman, teetering across the hall on stiletto's. She did a double take and skewed around, tipsily lurching in their direction. Waving a pink leather clutch bag in the air, she bellowed;

"Syed!"

"Simone."

He tried to fend her off as she swooped towards him, holding her too tightly by the arms, worried that he might leave finger marks on the smooth tanned flesh.

He pulled a face as Hakim and Yasmina melted politely away to join another set of friends.

"Baby!" Simone stroked his face and he flinched slightly.

"You look well.."

"So do you!"

She managed to drape her arms around his neck and Syed took a step away from her, cursing inwardly when he realised he was backed up against the wall.

"Still so bloody gorgeous. I'd almost forgotten those lovely, lovely eyes.. What you up to? I heard you got married, lucky cow. Used to think it could have been me, if it weren't for your bitch of a mother. Is she here?"

Syed opened and shut his mouth, a part of him experiencing a knee jerk annoyance at her rudeness about his mother, whilst the rest of him wondered why.

"My mother or my wife?"

He tried to smile charmingly, aware that the muscles of his face were stiff and unfriendly and that it probably appeared more like a snarl.

"God, neither I hope. Why'd you stop returning my calls?"

Syed could tell the alcohol was making her sentimental. He recognised the signs.

"Did I? I'm sorry, you know how it is, life gets in the way?"

Her lipstick red mouth drooped downwards.

"Married life?" She asked plaintively.

"It didn't work out Simone, it should never have happened…"

She perked up and slumped against the wall besides him, leaning against his shoulder.

"I'm trying to pretend to be sorry.."

"Don't be. I fell in love with someone else, you see I'm…"

She cut in before he could finish the sentence.

"Bugger it. The timings always wrong for you and me, isn't it? All those times you were either studying, or in training, or had family commitments or something, blah blah... Michael always thought you had a secret.."

Syed felt his muscles tighten.

"Did he?"

She nodded glumly.

"Yep. Speak of the devil.." She gestured towards the door and took a slug of wine.

The tall man in the doorway stood with casual, self confident, ease. His well cut, expensive suit, hung stylishly from broad shoulders. The short sharp crop of his dark hair, the bright cornflower blue eyes, the slow easy grin as someone reached up to shout above the din into his ear, brought memories flooding back.

Syed groaned inwardly as his guts turned to water. A forgotten reflex making him whisper the name;

"Michael."


	3. Chapter 3

"Can't you smell it burning?"

Christian twisted round and feebly flapped at the smoke billowing from the oven with a tea towel.

Jane snatched it from him and wrenched open the door, pulling out a small charcoal lump that had once been a meat and potato pie.

"Honestly Christian! What's wrong with you today? This one was for Janine, she'll create merry hell if she has to wait."

"She's lucky I didn't spit on it." Christian responded sulkily.

Jane noisily scraped the burnt offering into the bin. She clanked the baking tray under the tap, turning it on full force. The water hissed and bubbled, filling the already smoky pub kitchen with steam.

She pointed at the carrot that Christian had been absentmindedly slicing for the past ten minutes.

"And what have you done to that poor thing? It's macerated. Have you had a row with Syeeed?"

Christian sighed and pushed the messy mush into a pile with his knife.

"No. He's at his school reunion, I'm meeting him later."

Jane studied him thoughtfully.

"What?" He asked, catching her stare.

"And this is worrying you? Afraid there might be an old flame? You know what these things are like. Old passions reignited, thinking back to when you were young, feeling that rush of recklessness."

Christian stabbed the knife into the chopping board.

"Oh cheers Sis, that makes me feel heaps better. Anyway, he's still is young.."

Jane touched his arm sympathetically.

"I was only teasing. He adores you, anyone can see."

Christian took another pie from the fridge and eyed it suspiciously.

"Don't you dare Christian." Jane admonished him.

"As if I would. I dunno, I just started to think, he hasn't really had any relationships before ours. What if I'm just a starting point? He'll meet all his old friends, hear about their lives, maybe he's got history with some of them.."

Jane dragged a stool from the corner of the room and pushed him down onto it, relieving him of the pie. She closed the oven and came to stand in front of him, her heart touched by his despondency.

"He isn't you, Christian. He wouldn't have slept with most of the school, and a couple of the teachers."

Christian snorted.

"Only the Art teacher, thank you, and Mr. Armitage was rather magnificent. Funnily enough, I got top marks too."

He shivered, feeling bile rise in his throat.

"That's just it though, he hasn't had much experience apart from me. What if he wants to experiment, find out what it could be like with someone else?"

"You're being daft. He doesn't strike me as wanting meaningless encounters, he seems to have higher moral standards than you did.."

"I bloody did have standards you cheeky mare!"

Jane laughed in disbelief.

"Did you Christian? Did you really? I thought it was any boy would do."

Christian harrumphed and stuck his tongue out at her.

"With beer goggles on maybe. But none of them would do, not really, not 'til Sy."

Jane took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead tenderly.

"Stop torturing yourself. Think of all that he gave up to be with you. Not just to be out, to be with you, he did it because he loves you."

Christian smiled, forcing himself to try and snap out of his gloom.

"Ignore me, I'm just being maudlin, must be tired or something. I just don't want him to feel he's missed out."

"On what? He's got you."

Christian stood up heavily and returned to the chopping board.

"You would say that, you're my sister."

He selected another carrot and listlessly began to chop at it. Jane rubbed his arm in passing, telling him over her shoulder as she walked back into the bar;

"I would say that because it's true, and keep an eye on that pie."


	4. Chapter 4

Syed put his empty cup on the floor and looked wildly about for a way to escape the room without Michael seeing him. But Simone was beckoning energetically at his side, and Michael looked across, blue eyes flashing in recognition.

"Syed Masood! The boy most likely to!"

He strolled towards them, his group of hangers on parting in disappointment to let him through.

"Michael."

Syed stiffly held out his hand. It was gripped in a firm warm handshake, and he felt himself pulled towards Michael's chest, wrapped in a strong embrace he was powerless to escape from, trying not to breath in a scent he had thought he'd forgotten.

Michael eventually released him, studying his face intently. He grinned broadly showing even white teeth.

'Veneers' thought Syed churlishly.

"It's so good to see you! I was hoping you'd be here. Where did you vanish to after school?"

Syed attempted to regain his exposure, avoided looking into the handsome face, focusing on a point somewhere above Michael's head.

He wondered if he looked as shifty and discomfited as he felt.

"Uni, got a job in Leeds. I was in property there."

He realised with dismay that he was tempted to embellish his life so far, start banging on about driving a Mercedes, pretend he still lived in a penthouse flat over looking the Thames. But he knew that he loved his life, was proud of all he had.

"Now I live in Walford in the East End, in a flat above a chip shop." He felt defiant, adding;

"And I'm training to be a masseur."

Michael smiled and gestured to the gaggle of women clustered around, hanging on their every word.

"I bet this lot have suddenly developed a lot of aches and pains on hearing that news." He winked and bent closer.

"I must say, I'm feeling a bit stiff myself.." Guffawing he slapped Syed hard on the arm, almost knocking him off balance.

"Ha ha!" Syed responded politely. "And you?"

"Shadwell, got a warehouse conversion, overlooking.."

"The Thames?"

Michael shook his head ruefully.

"The gas works."

Syed felt a genuine bubble of laughter rising and cursed himself for allowing Michael back under his guard, he had vowed it would never happen again.

As if he sensed a thawing, Michael grabbed a bottle of wine from nearby table and put his hand under Syed's elbow, steering him towards the door.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

The lights to the gymnasium flickered on and Syed felt himself transported back through time, he could almost hear the squeak of plimsolls on the polished floor, as ghostly boys charged backwards and forwards. The faint ingrained smell of sweat and puberty made him wrinkle his nose.

Michael lounged against the vaulting horse and slowly looked him up and down.

"So, Masood, how have you really been?"

Syed kicked at a medicine ball, sending it rolling slowly across the room.

"Honestly? Never better." He answered.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"And you?"

Syed glanced up, dazzled by Michael's intense scrutiny.

"Not so bad, still trying to work stuff out. I dropped out of Uni, did a bit of modelling. I'm a photographer now, the other side of the lens. Fuck me, you should see some of the girls I get to meet. I'm like a pig in shit."

Syed climbed up a few of the wall bars and jumped down, trying to make his boots reproduce the remembered sound.

"You were never short of female attention."

Michael laughed.

"Most of them were your cast offs. You were the prize, the mysterious pretty boy who'd never commit. I had them all come crying on my shoulder. ' I thought he liked me! Tell him I love him, boohoo!'"

Syed shrugged, embarrassed.

"I don't believe that, you were captain of everything, body to die for.." He trailed off, wishing he could take back the words.

They were silent for a moment, each deep in their own thoughts.

"We had a laugh though didn't we? You were my best mate, until that last term, after the cricket match, when.."

Syed agitatedly ran his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

"We agreed to never discuss it." He said sharply.

"Did we? I don't recall you ever speaking to me again. I didn't expect things to be so different, Syed, so broken. I thought we could get past it. But from then on, you always seemed to be busy..."

Syed was surprised by the plaintive tone in Michael's voice. He watched him take a long slug from the wine bottle, noted his adam's apple rise in the curve of his throat.

"What can I say? Exam's, family stuff…"

"Your Mum matching you up with suitable girls? Simone mentioned you got married. Was she a suitable girl?"

Syed uttered a sharp hollow laugh.

"Hardly, not at the beginning, but they warmed to her. Beautiful, Muslim. Infinitely more suitable than the person I truly loved, love.."

Michael took a step towards him.

"You've lost that haunted look you always had, you don't look scared anymore."

"Someone saved me. Someone kind and funny, strong and brave. And so fit it burns your eyes…"

Michael edged nearer, asking softly;

"So who is this Wonder Woman? What's her name?"

Syed's mouth lifted into a slow sweet smile.

"Christian. His name is Christian."


	5. Chapter 5

"Thanks for all your help."

Christian thrust his apron at Jane petulantly.

"You could try and sound a little more convincing, spare your poor brother's feelings."

Jane tilted her head to one side and folded her arms.

"You've been a chocolate teapot all afternoon. Please God tell me you haven't got any clients now?"

Christian groaned, taking his coat from the peg by the door.

"Don't remind me. It's that bloody Dolores woman, I bet she describes me to her ghastly friends as 'my marvellous HOMOSEXUAL personal trainer.' She thinks it's 'so FABULOUS' to be living in the East End, loves that her kids are being brought up as true 'cockernies'. When they're not at their million pound a term boarding schools, that is. I might force feed her some jellied eels, or make her jog in a pearly suit. Oh, I know…"

His eyes gleamed with mischief.

"..I'll take her along the towpath and show her where Den Watts got shot, or where Lucas dumped that poor prostitute. And I might finish the grand tour with a run round the discarded syringes and empty Tenant's Extra cans."

Jane frowned at him and tutted.

"Or you could be professional and give her good value for money."

Christian zipped up his jacket with a flourish and kissed her on the cheek.

"I'm always good value, darling."

Jane stopped him with a gentle arm on his sleeve.

"Except when you're burning stuff and destroying vegetables. Talk to him, Christian. Tell him that you're worried, let him put your mind at ease."

"We'll see.. Laters!"

* * *

Christian could hear voices coming from the flat, as he bounded up the stairs. Smiling to himself, he thought cheerfully; 'Yay! He got bored and came home early!'

"SYEEEEED MASOOOOD!" He bellowed as he burst through the door. But It was just the radio that Syed had forgotten to turn off before he left, chattering away to no one.

Christian was amazed at how bereft he felt on finding the flat deserted. As he pulled off his clothes and changed into his tracksuit, he tried to pinpoint a reason for his unease. Everything had been fine, wonderful. Syed had been as loving as ever. There had been a loud shouty argument in the week though, about whose turn it was to put out the bins…

"His." He muttered under his breath, pulling tight the cord on his tracksuit bottoms.

But it had ended with Christian wrestling Syed onto the sofa and having his wicked way with him, to Syed's great delight. And, eventually, they had both taken the bins down together, pausing for a little smooch in the alley.

* * *

"Hi handsome!"

'Fuck off.'

Christian managed not to voice his thoughts and greeted Dolores brightly.

"Dol! Looking good."

She preened herself coquettishly, nursing a deluded notion that she might be able to 'turn' him.

"It's certainly Brass Monkey weather today!" He cut glass Sloane accent grated on Christian's nerves.

"And no mistake.." He responded obligingly. "I thought we might go for a little jog, get those Quadriceps working."

She twisted up her expensive, highlighted hair do, into a pink scrunchie and began to hop up and down on the spot.

"Ready when you are Mr. Motivator!"

'That's it.' Christian inwardly growled, 'you're going in the canal.'

* * *

"Same time next week?"

She nodded breathlessly, her face red and puffy from exertion and the cold.

The winter light was fading fast. A round orange moon had appeared from behind the Queen Vic, eerily lighting the frost that sparkled on the pavements.

Christian guiltily shook her small, frozen, manicured hand, and regretted taking out his bad mood on her, vowing to be kinder next time.

"You did brilliantly. If you get any muscle stiffness, give my boyfriend Syed a call, he's an excellent Masseur."

'Does things with his hands you wouldn't believe…'

He checked the time on his watch. Realising it would take him at least an hour to get across London, he waved her off and sprinted back home.

* * *

Showered and shaved, he searched frantically in the bathroom cabinet for the Eau de Cologne that he knew Syed liked the best. Gazing mournfully at the almost empty bottle, he beat it against his hand, trying to eke out the last drops.

"Bollocks!"

The temptation to hurl it across the room rose, frightening him with it's intensity.

Calming himself, he pulled his best clothes from the wardrobe, stopping in his tracks when he noticed an empty hanger. Syed had gone to the reunion in the checked shirt that Christian loved the best.

'Dressed to impress, eh Sy?'

* * *

The tube journey seemed interminable. He amused himself for a while, reading a discarded copy of 'The Sun'. Tittering at the News In Briefs, a bare breasted lovely, supposedly giving her opinions on the world economic crisis.

A young couple opposite were wrapped around each other, engaged in a round of tonsil tennis, oblivious to the other passengers. Christian smiled benignly at them, aware that they were winding the other occupants up with their display.

'Lucky bastards.' He thought, wishing Syed were there, chiding himself for his soppiness.

'When did I get to be such a romantic old fool?'

He strode out along strange streets, checking the map that Syed had drawn for him, giggling at the hastily sketched self portrait of Syed in a school uniform that marked his ultimate destination.

He saw the big wrought iron gates in the red brick wall, a small turret with a broken clock, yellow painted prefabs lurking behind the small main building. Heard the faint throb of Abba, the over excited chatter of adults confused into believing they were children again.

The gate screeched open with a rusty squeak at his touch and he walked into the playground.


	6. Chapter 6

Michael was standing so close now that Syed could smell the wine on his breath, the waft of aftershave, a scent of tobacco and nutmeg. He saw the faint dark stubble on his chin, the small scar above his upper lip, a legacy from the day he had fallen from the swings.

"I don't understand.." Michael's voice breathed low and quiet into his ear. " You're in love with a man? But when I kissed you, the way you reacted, as if I'd punched you in the face. Why did you bolt?"

Syed closed his eyes and swayed slightly. The fizzing of the fluorescent lights overhead receded, replaced in his mind by the sound of cheering. Transported, he was back in that afternoon in early spring. A boy, a young man. Dressed in his cricket whites, hearing the thwack of the ball as he hit it for six, taking him up to his century, winning the match.

* * *

Daisies twinkled at the edge of the mown grass, the sun was warm on his back. Behind the clapping of the onlookers, the joyous cries of his team mates, he could hear a far off plane, droning overhead like a giant, drunken bee.

He made his way with difficulty off the pitch, dodging the hugs and slaps that rained on him as he passed. Hakim ruffled his short hair and relieved him of his bat.

"Masood, that was epic! You fucking star!"

Syed grinned happily, wondering if he would ever again feel as elated and happy as he did in this moment. He searched the faces clustered around him.

"Where's Michael?" A small twist of disappointment marred his joy, he had wanted him to share in his triumph, but he was probably off snogging some girl.

Hakim shrugged.

"Think he went for a pee.." He started off a rousing chorus of 'For He's A Jolly Good Fellow' and Syed looked at the ground, suddenly embarrassed and very touched.

"Aww, stop it you lot." He unbuckled his shin pads with difficulty and made to climb the steps of the pavilion, fighting off the attempts made to lift him on their shoulders. Across the field he spotted Tamwar, squatting on the grass, his face puffy with hay fever, bony knees jutting from his school shorts, so gangly and vulnerable it touched Syed's heart.

"There's my brother, just going to go and say hi.."

He headed off towards him, not sure if he'd been able to spot him through his streaming eyes. As Syed reached the edge of the wooden pavilion, someone grabbed his arm and he was pulled violently behind the building.

* * *

"Michael! Did you see?"

He smiled up into his friends eyes, basking in the blue that matched the sky.

His expression strangely serious., Michael pushed nervously at the flop of dark hair that hung over his tanned forehead.

Syed frowned in concern.

"What's up? Are you ill?"

Then Michael's mouth was upon his, forcing it open with his tongue, twisting him around and backing him up against the pitch roller.

They struggled against each other, Syed powerless to escape his rising hunger.. Michaels hand tugged at his waistband and he pushed it down into Syed's trousers, under the protective cricket box, wrapping it around Syed's cock. Syed groaned as he stiffened, feeling the pain of hot blood and desire.

"NO!" He forced Michael away, making him stagger and almost fall.

"Are you mad? Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you.."

"You can…"

Syed hardly heard the plaintive cry as he raced away, his vision blinded with tears, he ran hobbling as the cricket box cutting painfully into his groin.

"Hi Sy! You were awesome! Man of the match!" Tamwar's squeaky voice piped up as he approached. He scrambled upright to pat his brother on the back, squinting at him through bottle thick glasses.

"Are you alright Sy? You seem a bit weird…"

Syed fiercely dragged his hand across his eyes and managed a watery smile.

"I'm fine Tambo. Let's see if we can get you an ice cream."

* * *

Syed spent the next morning skulking in the furthest recess of the library. He sat in a pool of sunlight, a thrush trilling merrily in the chestnut tree outside the open window beside his chair.

His text book lay opened and unread on the table in front of him. He slumped, hunched with misery, his grey hoodie pulled tightly over his head. The only other occupant, a sniffy studious girl that he knew slightly from Science Club, scowled grumpily at him as his stomach rumbles became louder, her pinched face creased with disgust, and he imagined, sickness rising in his gullet, that she knew, that everyone knew his secret shame.

Unable to ignore the griping hunger any longer, he shut his book with a loud slap, making the girl jump, rage flushing her sallow cheeks.

Head down, he sidled into the packed canteen and picked up a red plastic tray from the pile at the end of the counter. He mournfully inspected a strange yellow looking mass that was claiming to be chicken curry. A sudden racket of raucous laughter made him turn with a start. He saw Michael sitting at a packed table, crammed in with his cronies, saw him glance across, heard the guffaws increase. He threw the tray down with a crash and ran for his life.

Baseball boots squeaking on the linoleum, he raced down the corridor, barging through the double doors, breath ripping through his chest in strangled sobs. Running until he collapsed exhausted inside his own front door, and his mother's face loomed towards him, ranting at him for skiving from school.

He feigned an illness after that day, studying at home, only turning up for exams. He ignored Michael whenever he tried to talk to him, became adept at hiding behind pillars and pot plants. Then thankfully, his final exam over, he began a new life.

* * *

Syed put his hand firmly on Michael's chest and pushed him out of his personal space.

"You told them. I saw you laughing at me in the canteen. Did you do it for a bet?" He asked quietly.

Michael's eyebrows rose in shock.

"No, I didn't.. How could you think that? You were my friend.."

Syed snorted with derision.

"I thought so. But you were straight. Are straight. All those girls. Why else would you do it, if not to destroy me?"

Michael smiled and reached out a hand towards him, but Syed stood back, out of his reach.

"Am I? Was I?" Michael's voice was gentle and low. "I didn't know what I was. I think, all those raging hormones, any hole was a goal. Plus I was usually so pissed on cheap cider, it didn't really matter what I was fucking. The school guard dog got off lightly, I can tell you. But you, beautiful, beautiful you. You made me feel different."

Syed annoyed himself with his sense of pleasure at Michael's claim.

Michael crossed to the fire door and kicked it open, letting in a blast of icy air.

"Let's take this outside. I can hear the witches coven on the hunt for us. Besides, I need a fag, no pun intended.."

Syed followed, drawn by a curiosity, a sense of danger, a need to lay ghosts to rest.


	7. Chapter 7

Syed caught his breath as the cold hit him, he tugged at the zip on his leather jacket, pulling it firmly to the top. Clear, bright stars sparkled above the sulphur glow of the city and he watched the red and gold lights of an airplane as it flew above them. It was heading towards the channel, and he imagined himself and Christian sitting side by side, on route for the South of France. Knowing that Christian would be cursing at the lack of leg room, digging his elbows into his ribs, moaning at the plastic cutlery and flirting with the stewards to get him better food, asking loudly whether or not the meat was Halal. Syed smiled tenderly at the thought and turned his attention back to Michael.

He stood propped against the wall, one foot resting against it, scraping down little trickles of mortar. He gestured with his tobacco pouch towards Syed.

"You don't smoke do you?"

"No."

"Or drink? Still so very clean living.."

Michael's tongue licked slowly along the edge of the cigarette paper and Syed noticed he had been following the motion with his eyes and quickly looked away. He leaned beside him, their shoulders touching slightly.

"I can be dirty."

Michael sniggered.

"I bet you can." he offered his lighter to him. "You used to like lighting them for me.."

Syed waved it away.

"Not any more. So when did you come out?"

" Some people still don't know, like most of this lot, I kind of enjoy keeping them guessing, pretending to be the ultimate ladies man. But to my family, it was when I was at University. I wasn't sure until then, until after I kissed you.."

Syed chose to ignore the last comment.

"I suppose your parents were fine about it? I remember they were quite liberal. In fact, so liberal they probably threw you a coming out party."

Michael laughed.

"Well it's funny you should say that. Who would've have thought you'd be able to buy a 'Congratulations! You're Gay!' card?"

He exhaled a long stream of smoke, sending it swirling into the night air and Syed watched it until it disappeared

"Needless to say, I never received one of those. You do know it would have finished me if I'd let it go further? That it's forbidden in my faith? I would have lost my family, my community. You understand why I freaked?"

Michael looked at him through the darkness and sighed.

"I do, now. I'm sorry. You could have trusted me though."

"Yes. I'm sorry too. But what made you think I'd respond? " Syed briefly brushed Michael's hand with his fingers.

"The way I'd catch you looking at me from under those long dark lashes, sometimes you'd sit a little too close on the bus home. I wasn't sure though. You just looked so glorious in your cricket gear, glowing and triumphant. I couldn't resist…."

Michael nudged him gently with his elbow.

"…So, is it still a secret? That must be awful for the pair of you."

"Oh no, mind you, I didn't so much come out as get pushed kicking and screaming. I even had therapy to 'cure' me. Can you believe it?"

Michael gripped his shoulder and turned to face him, seeing the brief flash of pain flicker across his eyes.

"Shit Syed, that's mental! But your parents, have they come to terms with it?"

"Nope. As far as they're concerned, I don't exist."

"So you lost them anyway. Why is it different now, what made you decide to be honest?"

"Christian did."

Michael's voice caught slightly with hurt.

"And I wouldn't have been worth it?"

"We were kids Michael. And I hated myself, hated what I was, refused to believe it, thought it was a temporary madness. Anyhow, you would have been off with the next person once you'd tired of me, I couldn't have risked it."

Michael flicked his cigarette onto the grass, a firefly flash of red.

"And what made you so sure he wouldn't?"

Syed pushed himself away from the wall and looked back up at the stars.

"I put him through hell, and he never gave up on me. He was worth the risk."

They strolled across the crispy grass of the school field, heading towards the cricket pitch. Syed clenched cold fingers in his pocket and shivered.

"So you're not with anyone Michael?"

"Too busy tarting myself around Soho, dark rooms in the back of clubs in Vauxhall. You know the thing."

"Er, not really." Syed had a faint unnerving worry. What if Christian had been in one of those clubs before they were together? What if, by some awful synchronicity, he and Michael had met, been together, touched each other? The thought made him start to tremble from more than the cold.

"Chilly Syed? That boyfriend of yours doesn't feed you enough."

"I burn it off with all the exercise."

"Oh do you now? I suppose we'd better rejoin the party, we'll sneak in the back way.."

"As Christian would say, ooh err. He'll be here soon, you'll like him."

'Not too much I hope.' He mused, the worry still nagging at him.

Michael put his arm along Syed's shoulder and they turned back to the school.

"I doubt if he'll like me…."


	8. Chapter 8

The smell of floor mops and old roast dinners assailed Christian as he quietly entered the main doors. The entrance hall was dimly lit by security lights, and he felt his way along, trying to locate the sound of the merriment. In the gloom, he inspected the wooden plaques that lined the walls, carved with the names of old boys and girls. He found a set of framed photographs, smiling youths holding trophies aloft, beaming joyously, untainted by the realities of life. A young face in a cricket team caught his eye, short dark hair, smooth youthful skin, a wide smile that didn't quite reach the sad tawny eyes.

"Baby.." He touched the glass lightly with his finger.

A sudden strong urge to prise the picture from his hook and stuff it down the front of his jacket became hard to ignore. Something about being back in school had reignited his rebellious streak, he wanted to do something naughty.

"Behave yourself Christian." He muttered.

The laughter and music became louder as he neared another corridor, he turned right and saw a young woman burst through the double doors yelling;

"God knows where they've got to! I'll try the science block.."

She clattered past him, pausing to turn and look at him quizzically;

"You weren't in our year. I'd have remembered you. MICHAEL!"

He watched her depart, smiling to himself at the sight of her drunkenly clinging onto the walls for support. Standing behind the door she had emerged from, he peered through the glass window into the school hall, searching the crowd for Syed.

Groups had formed, people laughing and touching, pretending they were happier than they truly were. A few unhappy stragglers hovered around the periphery, still desperate to be included.

'Oh let them in, you sad bastards, you're grown ups now."

Christian could see no sign of Syed, and checked his phone for messages, in case he had become fed up with waiting and had set off for home. But the screen was blank. His finger poised to press Syed's number, he saw the heavy blue curtains on the stage at the far end of the room part, and Syed appeared. The handsome man following him had his hand placed lightly on his shoulder with an air of easy familiarity and Syed looked back at him with affection, grinning from ear to ear.

Christian felt a cold icy fist grip his heart, a chill run through his veins. As he made to leave the building, he took another look at the photograph of the cricket team. There, sitting next to Syed, his face slightly turned towards him, their knees pressing together, sat the same man.

Syed looked at his watch.

"He should be here by now." He worried.

"Perhaps he's stood you up.." Seeing Syed's stricken expression, Michael laughed. "..Only joking. Some of us arranged to go on to a club, will you come?"

"I don't think so Michael, we've got along journey home."

Michael could not hide the disappointment from his voice.

"Shame. I think we're being chucked out."

People were collecting up their coats and bags, hugging each other as if their lives depended on it, promising to always stay in touch. A promise that would be forgotten by the morning.

They started to move out along the corridor and spewed into the playground. Simone, returned from her fruitless search, swooped upon them and linked her arms with theirs, bleating plaintively;

"Where have you two beautiful boys been?"

They all hung around in the freezing night air, exchanging phone numbers and email addresses, waiting for an invitation to go to the club with the chosen few, no one wanting to be the first to leave.

Syed walked a little way away, anxiously checking his mobile.

"He's very keen on this woman isn't he?" muttered Simone crossly, shivering and clinging on to Michael.

"His boyfriend. He's called Christian, they live together." Michael patted her on the back.

"Shut your mouth, Simone, your tongue will get frostbite. Have you got a pen?"

Speechless, she rooted around in her clutch bag and handed one to him.

Syed rejoined them.

"I'll give him a ring and start heading for the tube station.."

"I've booked a minicab, you could share it." Michael offered.

"No, don't worry. It was great to see you both again, Simone." He pecked her on the cheek and held out his hand to Michael.

"Michael.."

Michael quickly moved forward and pressed a long slow kiss on Syed's mouth, making Simone's jaw drop even further and causing Hakim to hurry Yasmina, for whom many pennies had suddenly dropped, away to their waiting Taxi.

"Thank you." Syed said quietly.

The cab tooted it's horn behind them and they moved out of it's path. As it swept through the open metal gates, it's headlights lit a tall figure lounging against the wall.

"Christian!"


	9. Chapter 9

Simone gazed aghast at the man that slowly approached them, almost feeling his sexuality like a slap of hot air against her skin.

"Fucking hell." She hissed to Michael, "this can't be happening. That's Syed's boyfriend? Life is so bloody unfair. You'll be telling me you're gay next."

Michael took her arm in his and moved her nearer.

"Simone, I'm gay."

She crumpled slightly and uttered a small lament.

"Waaaaaaa…"

"Try not to faint. Look at him! All in black, like the Milk Tray man. And the muscles on him!"

Michael composed his features into a welcome smile, hoping it looked convincing.

As Christian joined them, he put his hand the back of Syed's head, tilting his face towards him. He ran his tongue slowly over Syed's lips, eradicating the touch of Michael's mouth. Eyes narrowed, he stared directly into Michael's, never letting his gaze waver.

"Hi! I'm Christian. Lovely to meet you."

He kissed Simone, who just gazed at him in a stupor.

"You poor thing, you're cold! Would you like to borrow my jacket?"

"Flarb….." Simone had lost the power of lucid speech.

"She can come under mine." Michael lifted up the side of his long coat and bundled Simone beneath it.

"I'm Michael."

The handshake seemed to go on for an age, and Syed was sure he could hear the faint crack of bones as each man tried to outdo the other with their grip.

Finally released, Michael resisted the need to rub his poor aching fingers, and put them, throbbing, into his pocket.

"I was saying to Syed, some of us are going on to a club. If the pair of you would like to join us?"

"Do you fancy it Sy?" Christian put the emphasis on the familiar shortening of the name, thinking to himself that if Michael had used it, he might have been forced to kick him.

Syed shook his head.

"No, I'm shattered. Unless you want to?"

'Why are you shattered?' Christian pondered. 'What were you up to behind those curtains?' The visceral misery he felt at the possibility made him pull Syed closer, proprietarily wrapping his arms around his waist. Making sure that the younger man saw the gesture.

"Let's go home."

Syed mouthed 'Yay!' and turned back to his old friends.

"It's been great to see you. I hope everything goes well for you…." he glanced into Michael's blue eyes, sent a silent farewell.

"Bye then!"

Michael watched as Christian and Syed walked away, hand in hand. He shuddered at the sad sense of loss deep in his soul and turned to Simone.

"Come on you, let's go and get so drunk we don't care anymore."

* * *

As they passed through the gates, Christian sensed Syed's hesitation, the swift turn of his neck as he momentarily looked behind him. He bit his lip and asked;

"Are you hungry?"

His voice was level, normal, not betraying the stab of jealousy that prodded at him like an imp's pitchfork.

"A bit."

Syed leaned happily against Christian's side, glancing up at the set of his jaw and the strong curve of his neck.

"I noticed a fish restaurant by the tube station. It looked good."

"Pollock and Pomfret!"

"Same to you. Seemed like you had a good time. Michael's nice."

Christian was quite surprised he had managed the observation without throwing up into his own mouth.

"Yeah, he is. All the time at school, I never knew he was gay.."

"Really? Your Gaydar is shit. But then you're still blissfully unaware about Fat Elvis."

"He never is!"

"Queer as a bottle of crisps. I'm lying, eww, can you imagine?"

They had emerged from the quiet residential side streets into the bustle of the main road. A teenager was vomiting copiously outside the Kentucky Fried Chicken and they deftly sidestepped around him.

"I knew I was, even though I managed a damn good job of convincing myself otherwise…" Syed clutched Christian's hand a little tighter.

"Never had me fooled." Christian returned the squeeze, lifting their joined hands to kiss Syed's.

"Here we are." He opened the door and let Syed pass in front of him into the brightly lit restaurant.


	10. Chapter 10

They had been shown into a small alcove, wooden banquette's piled high with golden cushions. A candle flickering in it's red glass holder sent voluptuous shadows darting across the table.

Syed's mouth watered as the waiter slid a plate in front of him.

"Mmm, the Pollock looks delicious."

"Thank you…" Christian smiled at the waiter and unwrapped his cutlery from the napkin.

"Always good to sink your teeth into a Pollock. You're glad you went then?"

Syed nodded, his mouth full.

"And what do they all do now, your friends? Are they all successful? Captains of Industry? Is Simone a lap dancer?"

Syed swallowed, realising guiltily that he hadn't asked what she was working at, is she was married, happy.

"Might be. Michael's a photographer, he was a model.."

Christian cut a potato in two, slowly and deliberately.

"No surprise, good looking boy that one. So you only know what he does? You didn't talk to anyone else?"

Christian's tone was calm, no trace of the brittleness he felt inside.

"Hakim's an accountant, he married Yasmina. Mum had her earmarked for me, her parents were very well thought of in the community. I knew Hakim out of school too, though I don't expect he wants to be my friend anymore after seeing…"

"After seeing what?"

Christian quartered the potato and moved it around the plate.

"Well you.."

"Oh. Is that why you didn't introduce me?"

The potato was in sixteenths now. Christian crushed the pieces with the back of his fork.

"No, I don't know…"

Syed paused, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

"Or were they the couple I saw scuttling into a taxi, the one that passed me when I was waiting.?"

Christian turned his knife over on the plate.

"Maybe.."

"So they didn't see me then. You must have told them.."

A silence hung between them. Syed was aware of Christian's scrutiny, looking at him with mild, concerned eyes.

"Yes… Or Michael said something..."

Syed stiffened, confused as to why he didn't just tell Christian what they had seen. Christian shifted slightly against the cushions and adjusted his napkin.

"That'll be it. Does Michael have a partner?"

Syed cleared his throat nervously.

"No, he's a bit like you were before we got together. Cruising and clubs and stuff…In fact I wondered, worried, if maybe you two had met? Without knowing?"

Christian hadn't considered the possibility, he cast his mind back through his many conquests, the dark back rooms. If they had met, he couldn't recall it.

"No. He's younger, we wouldn't have been at the same places at the same time."

Syed grinned with relief and Christian wondered, if, by some random chance of fate, they had happened to fuck each other, who Syed would be most jealous about, him or Michael?

"So you didn't know he was gay? At school? Was it an unrequited crush?"

Syed thoughtfully pulled a fish bone from between his teeth and placed it on the side of his plate.

"He was my best friend, we just had a laugh. Everyone wanted to be him, be like him. He had all the girls after him, especially the ones who had finally got fed up with me.."

"Your sloppy seconds?"

"Hardly. The one's who's brains I'd fried from being weird and cold."

Christian took a small mouthful of fish and mumbled;

"That doesn't sound like the Syed I know, well maybe the weird bit.."

"Shut up. I wasn't the Syed you know, not the man I am now. Anyhow, enough about me, how was your day?"

"Thrilling. I burnt Janine's pie."

Syed laughed.

"Is that a euphemism? How was the delectable Dolores?"

"Insufferable. She wants us to go to one of her dinner parties so she can parade us about to her ghastly friends, to show how right on she is."

Syed placed his cutlery together on his empty plate and wiped his mouth.

"Double points for me. I hope you told her no."

Christian tried to spear a pea, but the prongs of the fork screeched across the china and sent it rolling across the tablecloth onto the floor.

"Oops. I told her you'd love to go."

Syed surveyed the mess of Christian's meal, the fishes head staring up with glazed dead eyes.

"You'd better not have. Aren't you hungry?"

"It keeps staring at me, it's put me off. Sometimes things I see make me lose my appetite…I'll get the bill."


	11. Chapter 11

The only other occupant of the tube carriage was a middle aged man in a suit, slumped over two seats, an empty wine bottle on the floor between his legs, he was snoring loudly.

"Do you think he's been going up and down the line all night?" Giggled Syed.

"Probably. Shall we wake him?"

Syed approached the man and gently touched his arm. He awoke with a loud snort and stared wildly about him.

"Whaat!"

"You've been asleep…"

They both laughed as he jumped up, clutched his briefcase to his chest and leapt through the closing doors onto the platform.

"No, that's fine mate, no need to thank us.."

Syed leant his head on Christian's shoulder and yawned loudly.

"Sleepy.."

"Are you going to keep in touch with your friends, now you've met up again?"

Christian looked down at Syed's drooping eyelids.

"Doubt it.."

"Not going to re open your Matesgate account?"

Syed sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"What, after all that homophobic abuse I got posted on my wall?"

"You could block them…"

"They'd find a way of getting through. No. The past is the past."

Christian smiled tightly and quoted;

"The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there."

Syed settled down again, kissing the mole on Christian's neck.

"Very true. Wake me up when we're nearly home…"

"I might sneak off and let you come round in the sidings."

"You wouldn't do that to me."

"No. And you wouldn't hurt me, would you Sy?"

But Syed didn't answer, he had fallen asleep.

* * *

Christian nudged Syed gently and he awoke, eyes bleary and confused, his hair tousled over his face.

"Our stop."

He put his arm around Syed's shoulders and pulled him up, supporting him as they walked down the stairs of the station and out into the freezing crisp air of Walford Square.

* * *

"It's lovely and warm in here!" Syed shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair.

"I left the heating on for when we got back."

"You think of everything."

Syed leaned up and wrapped his arms around Christian's neck.

"It's been a really strange day. Back to normal now though. Did you record CSI?"

"Yup. Are we back to normal then?"

Syed stood back and studied Christian's expression, frowning in confusion.

"Are you okay Christian? You seem a bit quiet. Everything's alright isn't it?"

"Of course it is.."

"Are you sure? I'm bursting for a pee, awash with squash. Give me a minute and you can tell me what's on your mind.." Syed rushed towards the bathroom, knocking his jacket into a heap on the floor as he passed. Christian tutted and bent to pick it up, as he did, a small square scrap of paper fell from the pocket onto the floor.

He looked towards the bathroom, contemplating just stuffing the business card straight back into Syed's jacket, but an agonising curiosity made him examine the front of it.

_Michael O'Riordan _

_Photographer_

_0727773345666_

On the reverse, handwritten in long sweeping strokes, it read;

'Call me, for old times sake xxx'

Syed re-entered the room, singing happily and stopped still in the doorway, the tune on his lips fading softly away.

"Christian!" He called, looking anxiously about the flat. He saw Christian's phone on the table, and on top of it, Michael's business card. Syed picked them both up, and flipped the card over. Reading the message, he slumped, desolate, onto a chair and muttered;

"Shit."


	12. Chapter 12

Syed let the slats of the venetian blind flick back into place. He had been craning his neck out of the window for the past half an hour, searching the square for signs of Christian. He rubbed his frozen face with his hands and paced anxiously up and down the living room.

Decisively, he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

Out in the gardens a dog barked four times, an echoing melancholy lament. The last tube rattled back to the depot over the bridge and Syed felt tears prick his eyes.

""Where are you, you silly bastard?"

The striped plastic awnings of the market stalls flapped eerily beside him in the arctic wind. And he realised he didn't know where to look.

Standing, a slight hunched figure in the emptiness of the streets, he surveyed the darkened windows of the sleeping houses and turned to make his way home.

* * *

"Do you know what time it is?" Ian's grumpy voice crackled on the other end of the line.

"I'm so sorry.. I really need to talk to Jane."

He heard the muffled traces of a hushed conversation, Ian moaning;

"It's your bloody brother's boyfriend.." then Jane's concerned voice as she took the receiver from her husband.

"Syeeed! What's wrong? What's happened?"

"I'm so sorry to wake you. I just wondered if Christian might be there?"

"No. Why? Are you crying?"

Syed moved the phone away from his ear and stifled a sob.

"Did you have a row? Call him.."

"He's left his phone, he's been gone for over an hour. I don't know what to do.."

Jane spoke in low reassuring tones, trying to calm him.

"Go to bed. He'll come back when he's ready, he was just worried about you going to your reunion.."

"Was he? Why?"

"I've said too much. Talk to him Syeed, he's not always as self assured and confident as he might seem, you must know that."

"I do. I'm sorry I woke you. I hope Ian's not too cross.."

"Don't worry about that miserable sod. If Christian's not back in an hour, I'll come over."

"Thank you."

A tear trickled down Syed's cheek, and he smeared it away with his thumb, placing his mobile down next to Christian's.

He force himself to undress and get into bed, pulling the duvet tight up under his chin, his eyes never leaving the front door.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the sound of a key in the lock made him sit bolt upright.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He shouted.

Christian turned on the main light and waved a small plastic carton.

"We were out of milk."

"And you were so desperate for a cup of tea you spent nearly two hours going to get some?"

"The Minute Mart was shut." He answered mildly, turning to hang up his jacket.

"I scratched on the window and mewed a bit, but they wouldn't let me in, so I had to go to the all night garage."

"You walked all that way? In this weather? I was worried sick. Christian.. Please, tell me what's going on."

Christian pulled out one of the dining room chairs and turned it round, sitting positioned opposite to Syed in the bed, a world of space between them.

"I saw you."

"You saw me what?"

"Appearing back with him, from wherever the two of you had been, doing whatever it was, on your own, together."

" You came into the hall? Talking. We were talking."

"And the kiss. I saw you kiss."

"You saw him kiss me, kiss me goodbye. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you? I gave you a chance."

"Testing me were you? Nice. You're right, I should have told you, was going to. But I just didn't want you to think there was more to it than there really was."

"So it meant nothing?"

"I'm not going to insult you by telling you that. Of course it meant something. It meant goodbye, it meant sorry, it meant closure. It meant that I now know that the person I'd thought was my best friend hadn't kissed me for a bet, hadn't tried to shame me by outing me to the whole school, that he was just as confused and troubled as I was, but I let him suffer alone, because I was too wrapped up in my own misery to notice. And you might find some of that last bit vaguely familiar.."

Christian hung his head and studied the palms of his hands.

"So you had a history.."

"He tried to touch me, to kiss me, once. On a hot spring day, behind the cricket pavilion. There you go, the stuff of dreams. I shall be leaving you immediately on the strength of that one boyhood fumble."

Christian looked up and smiled tentatively.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Not much. I had a plastic cricket box knob protector in my trousers, it was actually rather painful."

"So he made you hard?"

"I was a teenager, the engine vibrations from sitting on the top deck of a double decker bus used to make me hard, the sight of the man in the corner shop's hairy hands used to make me hard."

"Hairy hands?"

"It was a phase, I'm over it."

They were silent for a while, Syed looking at the top of Christian's bowed head.

"Was it that funny pink colour?" Christian asked randomly.

"Eh? Was what?"

"The cricket box, the colour of Germolene."

"Yes. But do you mean Calomine Lotion? Bubblegum, it was bubblegum pink. Does it matter?"

"No.. Not at all."

Christian stood up and sat heavily beside him on the bed and Syed stroked a hand over his hair.

"You were worried before I went though. Why?"

"Who told you that?"

"A little bird. Tell me.."

"It sounds daft."

"Dafter than going miles for a pint of milk in sub zero temperatures?"

"It's just.."

"Go on.."

"You haven't had much experience with men, lovers, apart from me.."

"Just as well, if this is the way you react. Imagine what it's like for me? I even worried that Michael might have had you.."

"So you were jealous about me, not him?"

Syed gave his arm a shove.

"Who do I live with? Who do I share my bed with, my body, my life? Honestly Christian, you can be a right tosser."

"Don't you ever wonder if the grass might be greener? If other men might be better.."

"There are better men than you? Hand me my trousers, I'm off to Soho with my tightest T shirt on. Who says the grass would be greener? It might be brown and dry and arid, with a dog poo on it. Do you wonder if it's greener? Miss your old life?"

Christian grimaced.

"God no."

"So we're at the same place, we've just arrived here by different routes. You must remember how I was when we first met, so angry, so deep in denial. Scared. I was like that at school, I could never let any one close. Michael was my friend, but he only had glimpses of the real me. You, you have it all. I took the risk for you, you made me brave. I love you."

They moved together on the same impulse, deep loving kisses wiping away a lifetime of pain.

"Are you okay now?" Syed whispered, pulling Christian's T shirt over his head.

"I'm sorry. I've been an arse."

"A very splendid, hot, arse."

"I love you Sy, I can't bear to think of you with anyone else."

"Hand me Michael's card."

Christian raised his eyebrows, shocked.

"What for?"

"Bring it here."

Syed took the card from him and fumbled about for the matches they used to light the bedside candles.

"Pass me a saucer."

"Sy, don't. You can be friends.."

"Saucer, I don't want to set the bed on fire, well not with matches anyway.."

Dutifully, Christian brought him one back from the kitchen and watched as he lit the card, watching the flakes of paper burn bright, then turn to ash.

"You're all I need…."

"To get by!" Christian sang quietly.

"Shall we have a cup of tea, since you went to all that trouble to get the milk?" Syed smiled into Christian's eyes, pulling at the zip on his jeans.

Christian urgently kicked off his shoes and shrugged away the rest of his clothes, pulling the duvet away from Syed, he climbed beside him, wrapping his body around him, long lean limbs entwined together.

"Later…"

* * *

**_Thank you all sooooooo much for reading this, and your lovely reviews. :) :) I hope this has brightened a slightly rubbish day in Chryedville xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**


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